


When You Kill The Lights And Kiss My Eyes

by LayALioness



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayALioness/pseuds/LayALioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“See you,” he grinned, and she tried to be happy for him, she really did. She should have been happy for him; Bellamy was her friend, and he deserved something nice, someone nice.</p><p>She just wished it wasn’t Gina.</p><p>Raven was always picked first on the Ark. But this wasn’t the Ark, it was earth, and apparently she wasn’t so popular on the ground. Gravity sucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Kill The Lights And Kiss My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title from to be alone by hozier
> 
> for anon on tumblr who asked for canonverse bartender mechanic + smut. this is the smuttiest i have ever gotten and i am side eyeing it real hard.

Raven was used to taking what she wanted. She had to, if she wanted to survive. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be _given_ anything, so. She learned to take it. She learned when to distract the merchants so they wouldn’t notice her tiny quick fingers, stuffing the protein pack into the billows of her oversized shirt.

That was the nice thing about Ark-issued hand-me-downs, she discovered; lots of extra room for hiding.

Raven was getting ready to take Finn’s rations—he was the boy next door, nice enough but she didn’t _know_ him, and she didn’t want to. Knowing people made it harder to steal from them, and she was so hungry her stomach wasn’t even growling anymore, like it’d just given up.

She noticed the peach fuzz growing there, yesterday. Soft little hairs sprouting from her tummy. She wasn’t sure what they meant, but they probably had something to do with the fact that it hurt to breathe, because her ribs were too close to her skin.

She was so _ready_ to do what she had to; to knock Finn across the face—just one hit, probably. He was soft like that—take his rations and run. Raven always did what she had to, because she was strong.

(She was either strong, or she was bad, and she wasn’t sure she could handle being bad at anything, so strong it was. She said it over and over to herself, until she finally started to believe it.)

She was _so ready_ —but then he said “Want some?” and reached out a hand, offering. Just… _giving_. Just because.

He sat outside in the hallway with her, watching as she shoveled the food down so fast she nearly choked on it, as she licked the pads of her fingers clean, desperate and _still_ so hungry. She was always so hungry.

The next morning, she found a protein pack slipped under the front door, unnoticed by her mother, still sleeping off last night’s bad decisions in the worn hunk of cloth she called a couch.

Raven was used to taking what she wanted, and what she wanted was Finn, so she grabbed on with both hands so she couldn’t possibly be left behind. He didn’t seem to mind. He said he thought she was fun, and funny, and nice.

He was wrong—she wasn’t _nice_ , had never been _nice_ , but. She liked the way he talked about her. Like she wasn’t some tough-skinned, sharp-toothed _thing_ clawing at the world, trying to climb her way up through its belly. Like she had the potential to be soft, and nice, and _pretty_ , like the other girls she saw sometimes, on the way to some dance, or the market, to pick out a new ribbon for their hair.

Later, Finn called her _beautiful_. And she believed him, because—why else would he be there?

Raven was used to getting her way. When the world spat at her feet, she kicked its teeth in. When life threw away the key, she picked the lock. She’d never been opposed to a little muscle, a little _added incentive_ , a few _cautionary_ words.

Raven did what she had to. Those sorts of lessons are hard to forget, no matter how many times Finn touched her, hoping he could mold her into something sweet.

She was used to taking what she wanted, and so when the Ark said she wasn’t allowed to take the spacewalk, she told the Ark to fuck off.

She wasn’t used to getting caught.

She wasn’t used to losing.

Raven thought it especially shitty, that winning should so easily become habit, while no matter how many losses she face, each one felt like a sucker punch to her throat. None of them came easy. None of them were quick. Loss, she’s found, happens gradually, less like a broken bone, and more like the pain that comes from it mending.

Raven was used to fighting. She’d always been a fighter—one of the few things her mother had said. That she came out fighting, fists first. Probably untrue, just like everything else the woman said, but. At least this lie was a nice one. There was a little comfort there, if she looked hard enough.

Like maybe this constant unending fire inside her, burning from the inside out, wasn’t some strange symptom of a larger disease. Maybe it was in her genetics. Maybe she was just born to beat things up.

Raven brought the fire with her when she came down to earth—because once Abby suggested it, Raven didn’t hesitate. Of course she’d go after him. It was the only way to get him back and anyway, she was used to it.

She wasn’t used to the green, or the smell of wet grass, or actual fucking _sunshine_ on her hands and hair and face. She wasn’t used to the sounds of the world, the ones that existed outside of rumbling generators and the suction of airlock and the hum of an engine.

She thought she could be, if she had enough time.

And then Finn was there, but he was staring straight through her, and suddenly none of it really mattered, because there was that punch to the throat and she couldn’t breathe. She was that little girl again, with fuzzy skin pulled tight over bones, not enough of anything to do much but survive.

Raven was used to being picked first. She figured, it’s the least the world owed her, really.

And yet here was this _girl_ , like a literal _sunbeam_ —they called her _princess_ for god’s sake, and how was she supposed to compete with that?

Finn had done his best, to make Raven soft and good and _nice_ , but suddenly here was Clarke Griffin, pre-baked and packaged to his exact specifications, and so where did that leave her?

Bellamy asked if it helped, and Raven said no, but she was lying. It _did_ help, at least a little. It helped put things in a perspective that wasn’t skewed by childhood love and teenage hormones and a little bit of that desperation that she never really managed to wash completely off.

Just taking wasn’t going to cut it anymore—she needed to give back. She’d tried the taking, all her life she’d taken, and what exactly had it gotten her? A broken heart and a bruised jugular, but no more.

She still wasn’t exactly _nice_ , but. She didn’t need to be nice. She needed to be _effective_ , and _helpful_.

Raven Reyes was used to working for what she had, having to earn each inch she grappled with. The earth wasn’t so different from the Ark, after all. A little dirtier, and wetter, and larger, but still ultimately a cage. Still the constant, constant fighting. Still the burning in her veins, the sting that told her to keep going, that told her she was still alive.

Raven woke up with a bullet in her spine and a hole in her fucking soul and still the only thing she could think was _I am stronger than this_ , because the alternative was just laying there and dying in a pool of blood and grounder ash, with fucking _Murphy_ as her only witness, and _fuck that_.

Raven was used to the spite. The spite that dug its way like termites into the marrow of her bones, the spite that first trickled in when her mother drank that first bottle, the spite that had been in the back of her mind like some fucked up Jiminy Cricket since the day she was _born_.

Fists first, for a reason.

Raven lost her leg, but she didn’t lose the bitterness, and maybe one day she’d regret that but for now it kept her moving, kept her breathing, with the words _I’ll show them_ like a war drum in her head. _I’ll show them, I’ll prove them wrong, I’m strong, I’m strong_.

(She wasn’t so sure about that anymore, but what else was there to do? Giving up had never been an option. Losing didn’t come naturally to her.)

She was still giving, giving so much of her away it felt like fucking _torture_ , because what if they took what she gave them, and broke it? What if they broke her? It had never felt so possible before—but then, she’d never had so much to lose.

And giving didn’t come naturally to her either, because of course it wouldn’t. Nothing on this planet could just be fucking _easy_. Instead, it felt like she was pulling herself apart, picking at the loose threads of her insides, letting everyone pull them this way and that until she was a tangled up knot, and useless. It felt like she was being washed away by the river, eroded little by little, watching chunks of herself wash away downstream, until there was nothing left.

Wick wanted more than a rib bone, or inch of flesh. He didn’t understand that she’d already given the rest of it away; there wasn’t any more left, for her to give him. And so he left; he’d rather spend weeks wiping his ass with poison oak in some grounder village, than see her face every day, and Raven couldn’t even blame him. Wick didn’t know what it was like, to be a taker. He didn’t understand how hard it was, for her to show him even one glimpse. And Raven couldn’t bother to explain it, so he left and she let him. Jeeps are less trouble than boys, anyway.

Clarke left too, but Clarke wasn’t Raven’s loss. She kept an eye on Bellamy those first few days, just in case, but she knew he’d be fine. She’d seen that wild desperation, the kind you can’t outgrow, the kind that comes from a childhood spent in constant fear and anger and worry, the kind that came from always doing what he had to do. He was like her that way.

Except giving came as naturally to Bellamy as breathing, so he threw himself at their people, helping build the walls, set up the fences, set up a _community_ —hell, she caught him _babysitting_ one day.

Raven stuck to her gadgets and machines. They expected less from her than people.

When Raven first met Gina, she was in a pair of oil and grime-stained overalls, hair unwashed for six days, sore and cranky because her brace was acting up, and she’d been stuck on her back under _Calypso_ for three hours, trying to patch up a hole in her oil tank.

Gina was pretty enough, but Raven was tired and honestly she wouldn’t have even noticed her, except she poured her some moonshine in a glass beaker. Raven eyed the glass and then the bartender, straying over her messy curls for maybe longer than absolutely necessary.

“I heard you’re a science nerd,” the bartender quipped, not sounding anything like Raven was expecting.

To be honest, she’d been expecting a dented tin can and maybe some poor attempt at small talk. But now that she was paying attention, she could see the smirk dancing around the edges of her mouth, the dark skin under her eyes, the way she wore her see-through top like she didn’t care who noticed.

 _Take_ , said Fucked Up Jiminy Cricket, and Raven scowled into her drink.

“Thanks,” she grumbled, hobbling away. The bartender didn’t seem too bothered; she shrugged and took the beaker back, scrubbing it with a rag too dirty to do much good. Raven waited until she was in her room—some shitty apartment that could hold half a bed, and was probably a broom closet in another life—to lean her head against the wall and think _No_.

She knew now, what came from taking, and it was never anything good. Best to leave it alone.

Except— _leaving it alone_ had never been one of Raven’s talents.

And, it seemed silly to avoid someone just because of a crush. A _sliver_ of a crush, really, because it’s not like she had time to get very attached. She didn’t even know her name.

So she went back the next night, and toed the line carefully between flirty and _let’s be friends_ , offering little wry jokes to try and coax a laugh out of her, because that’s all she had to offer. Miller showed up eventually, because Miller hates drinking alone, and he still felt guilty about spending time with Monty.

Miller still felt guilty for having a crush on a boy who wasn’t his boyfriend, his boyfriend he hadn’t  heard from for the last four months, maybe five. His boyfriend that was probably dead, and he probably even _knew_ it, but. He still felt guilty about a crush.

Finn had slept with Clarke after three days, and Raven tried not to think about it. She’d forgiven him, back before the execution. She’d forgiven him pretty much instantly because with all the spite and the hate and the fight that Raven carried around with her, she didn’t know how to be angry with Finn. She didn’t know how hate him. She still didn’t.

She leaned her head on Miller’s shoulder, watching the bartender move to take care of some kid who was clearly trying to look tough for her, throwing back his liquor, doing his best not to cringe. Raven grinned a little meanly; she couldn’t help it. She still wasn’t _nice_.

“Crushes suck,” she said, making a face, and Miller clacked their glasses together.

Hers was the beaker again. It was always the beaker. She was starting to think the bartender saved it especially for her.

Raven went home that night with a head full of bubbles, testing the name _Gina_ out with her tongue. She liked the way it tasted. She liked the way it fit in her mouth.

It was a week before Bellamy calmed down enough to go with them to the bar. For once he wasn’t fixing something or counseling someone or reffing some impromptu sparring match, and Raven was actually kind of excited. Bellamy was the closest thing she had to a best friend these days, and she cared about his opinion.

“Order up, Blake,” she grinned, sliding onto her usual stool, waving Gina over from across the bar. She walked up, beaker in hand, along with Miller’s favorite dented tin can, and a new cup for Bellamy. “Gina, this is Bellamy Blake.” She leaned across the countertop, to whisper conspiratorially. “Just a heads up; he’s a fucking nerd, too.”

“Says the _actual_ rocket scientist,” Bellamy smirked, downing his drink.

Gina laughed, looking charmed. Looking charmed by _Bellamy_.

Raven sat back, grimacing at the aftertaste of the moonshine. Gina was telling Bellamy something about a book she’d found in one of the supply runs, and he looked so fucking _bright_ and eager, more interested than Raven had seen him in _months_.

She glanced over to see Monty and Harper sitting off to the side, and called out for him. “What the fuck did you make this batch in, an old car battery?”

Monty frowned back at her, and she felt even more awful. Miller glared from where he sat with Monroe, playing some strange game of Chess with half the pieces missing. It looked like they’d replaced them with rocks.

“Need a refill?” Gina asked, gentle as always, and Raven let her take the beaker from her hands.

She left early, after three more drinks. “Want to head in?” she asked Bellamy, feeling a little hopeful and hating herself for it.

He glanced over at Gina, where she was pouring a drink for some off-duty guard. “Nah,” he shook his head, looking nervous, but—happy. It was a good look on him. “You go ahead.”

She could have made him walk back with her. She could have pretended she wasn’t sober enough to walk straight, or pretend to pass out. It didn’t take much to make Bellamy help you.

“Okay,” she patted his head, a little more drunk than she meant to be. A little more drunk than she’d be if Gina hadn’t flirted with him. “See you.”

“See you,” he grinned, and she tried to be happy for him, she really did. She _should_ have been happy for him; Bellamy was her _friend_ , and he deserved something nice, _someone_ nice.

She just wished it wasn’t Gina.

Raven was always picked first on the Ark. But this wasn’t the Ark, it was earth, and apparently she wasn’t so popular on the ground. Gravity sucked.

Raven didn’t miss much about her life up in space, but she missed Zero-G like a physical _ache_ , like a phantom limb. She missed the weightlessness and the silence and the stars wrapped around her like a thick blanket of fire and atoms and dust. She was a scientist; she knew what stars were made of. But that didn’t make them any less beautiful.

She was prepared to see Gina on the morning after, hair mussed up and clothes skewed, the obvious sheen of sex still in her eyes.

But she wasn’t prepared for Gina on a _date_ , with _Bellamy_.

“What?” he snapped, when he caught her staring. He’d found a fucking _dress shirt_ , or what might have been one, once. There was a stain on the sleeve and she wasn’t convinced it wasn’t blood. “Too much?” Bellamy made a face, faltering, and Raven shook her head.

Now wasn’t the time for her fucked up emotions-phobia bullshit. Bellamy was her friend, and she’d be damned if she let him mess it up.

(Because if she did, what would that make her?)

“You look hot,” she said, and he scoffed, but he sounded a little more confident about it. Like he used to, before Clarke left, before Finn, and Lexa. Before everything went to total and utter shit.

Raven smirked, because she knew her role. The asshole best friend; toss around some snarky comments, and maybe one or two heartfelt ones, so he’d know she still cared. “She’ll probably look hotter.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “Definitely.” He pulled on her ponytail and was gone.

And if she was surprised about _that_ date, Bellamy Blake in a relationship was shocking.

“What, again?” she asked, frowning, as Monty crowned her king. Or maybe he just kinged her queen; the game was complicated, and she was having trouble following. Either way, he was winning, and looking fucking smug about it too because Monty was kind of a competitive asshole when it came to board games. “That’s the fifth time this week.”

“Well, yeah,” Bellamy rolled his eyes, fixing his hair in the smudgy reflection. “That’s sort of what you do when you’re dating someone; you go on dates.”

“What would you know about dating someone?” Miller asked, at the same time that Raven blurted “You’re _dating_ her?”

There was a long stretch where everyone was clearly trying not to stare at her, but failing, while Bellamy just looked unimpressed.

“Try not to sound so surprised,” he said, wry, and then headed off down the hall, towards his _date_. With _Gina_.

Miller kicked her good shin under the table, and Raven swore. He wasn’t even playing the game; he just liked to watch Monty kick her ass. “Careful, the green monster’s showing.”

Raven glared at him, rubbing at the sore bruise on her leg under the table. “I’m not jealous.”

“Say it again,” Miller said. “A little more convincing, this time.”

Raven sighed, wiping some of the engine grease from her forehead, smearing it across the back of her arm. “I’m not—at least, not how you think.”

He was about ask, she could tell, but Jasper chose that moment to walk in, and as usual, silence came in with him. So did Octavia, at least, dragging him over to the buffet, sparing them a small head shake, a wordless _I’ve got this_. Which was fine; they’d let her handle him. Raven liked Jasper, but she knew enough about herself to know she couldn’t fix him. She could barely fix herself.

She turned back to find Monty staring after him, like he just couldn’t help it. She nudged one of her rocks towards his, knocking it off the board. “So that makes me a king, right?”

Monty sighed, smile faint at the corners of his mouth. “Not quite,” he said, feigning exasperation, but she knew better. He liked being able to teach her this, being able to teach something beyond how to use a computer to massacre a mountain. “Here, look, we’ll try again…”

Raven managed to avoid Gina for all of one month, before she dragged herself back to the bar. She’d had a Day and a half, and just needed to drown her sorrows and laugh with her friends.

Except her friends weren’t there; they were off on a supply run. Raven found herself stuck, standing in the middle of the doorway, debating whether or not to just leave and dig out the emergency jar of moonshine she stashed somewhere under her bed.

“Hey, stranger,” Gina smiled, and when Raven looked over, she waved at her with the beaker. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Raven agreed, sliding onto her stool, mind made up for her. She could handle one night, two drinks, a handful of hours. Smalltalk. Maybe bond over how Bellamy is in bed. “I think we’ve both been pretty busy,” she added, sly, and Gina looked amused.

“Some more than others,” she mused, laughing when Raven grimaced. “It’s fine, I get it. Just—don’t stay away on my account, okay?” When Raven looked confused, she explained. “Bellamy told me about you two, back when you first landed. I’m totally fine with it, so if you were trying to not make it awkward, then—”

“No,” Raven interrupted, because _god_ , how was this girl so oblivious? “That’s not why. I really was just busy.”

Gina nodded and then hesitated, looking some strange mix of hopeful and nervous that made Raven’s chest hurt. “But, you’re not anymore?”

“Right,” Raven tipped back her drink in a rush. “Not anymore.”

Gina grinned, putting her hand over Raven’s knuckles. Her hand was bigger, and rougher, with callouses from carrying heavy crates all day, and blunt nails from constant work. She gave Raven just one squeeze before pulling back. “Good.”

Bellamy found her the next day, on her back under _Calypso_ , ears ringing from the harsh sound of metal on metal. He pulled her out by both ankles, and she screamed.

She glowered up at him, and swung a wrench menacingly, but Bellamy only grinned.

“I heard you talked to Gina.”

Raven shrugged a shoulder, which was a feat since she was still laying down. “So what.”

“ _So_ ,” Bellamy nudged her leg with his boot. “Thanks. She was actually pretty worried you didn’t want to be her friend anymore.”

She looked up at that, shocked in spite of herself. In all her time avoiding Gina, she hadn’t once assumed she might think _that_. Gina was perfect. Everyone should want to be friends with her.

“No,” she said, struggling to sit up without her leg to use as leverage. Bellamy leans an arm down for her to grip. A few months ago, she would have slapped it away, maybe sneered a little, growled _I can do it myself!_ But she’s older now, and she’d like to say it’s because she’s learned more, but really she’s just too tired. “That wasn’t why.”

“I figured,” Bellamy said, and part of her wanted to ask what _he_ thought the reason was, but she just hummed, and then flicked him in the cheek, instead.

“She’s too good for you,” she chirped, and Bellamy made a face. She wished she could explain that when she said Gina was too good for him, she really meant _she’s too good for anyone_. Which really meant, _she’s too good for me_.

“Shut up.” He readjusted the pack on his shoulder; he and Monty were going on some sort of mission. Not a lot of people, not a lot of guns, which either meant they were going somewhere peaceful, or they were going somewhere where they wanted to be able to run. Raven probably could have asked around and found out, but. She’d long since lost interest in the details of these things. As long as they came back intact, that was all that mattered.

“Be safe,” she said, nudging his shoulder.

He grinned. “Always am.”

Raven found Gina that night at the bar, tense and alert just in case. She and Bellamy had only been dating for two weeks, but in their world, two weeks can feel like a lifetime. She wasn’t sure how close they’d actually gotten; Bellamy didn’t kiss and tell, and Gina hadn’t mentioned it.

But she was Gina’s friend before Gina dated Bellamy, so it was basically her duty, to make sure that she was alright.

“Hey,” she grunted, sitting down, and Gina slid her filled beaker over immediately, like she was just waiting for her to show up.

“Hey yourself,” she grinned.

Raven pursed her lips a little, not sure what to say. This had never been her favorite part, the talking, or the relationships, or feelings in general. And whenever she was around Gina, it always felt like all the emotions in the world were about to hurl themselves out of her mouth like vomit.

She settled on “How are you?” because that was simple enough, but to her immediate dissatisfaction, Gina just grinned wider, like she was in on some secret.

“Better,” she said, which—what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Better how? Better now that Bellamy was gone? Better now that Raven was here? Better now that her shift was almost over?

Raven probably just shouldn’t read into anything Gina said. The world would probably be much safer.

“Good.” They drank. Gina poured more drinks for customers. They looked at the trades people brought in to sell. Raven got a lot more drunk on some of the elderberry-infused moonshine than she was really planning to.

At some point, she fell asleep on her arms, on the bar top, and only woke when Gina shook her shoulder gently, all packed and ready to head back to her room. Her shift must have been over, and Raven blinked the sleep from her eyes.

Gina grinned, all warm fondness, and Raven had to bite the inside of her cheek, to keep from lunging at her. “We should probably get you home,” she said, and Raven let her help her down from the stool, and slowly across the floor.

They reached Gina’s door first, because it was on the way to Raven’s, but when Raven went to take her arm back and pull away, Gina held onto her sleeve, looking a little nervous.

(And, she couldn’t be positive because the shadows were very dark, but Raven swore she saw some pink to Gina’s cheeks.)

“Um,” Gina started and then huffed a little, running a hand through her messy hair, fingers getting snarled up in the tangles, so that Raven had to start untangling them one by one. “I don’t—I’m not used to sleeping on my own, anymore.”

Raven’s fingers paused in her hair, but Gina shifted a little, like she was about to head butt her hand like a cat, to make her keep petting, but then remembered herself. “Did you,” she looks down, and Gina’s cheeks are _definitely_ pink this time. There’s no faking it. “Did you want me to stay?” she offered, and Gina sighed in relief, dragging her into the room.

Her room was everything Raven’s wasn’t, small as it was. _Things_ littered the floor and shelves hung up along the wall, lined in knick knacks. Some of them were crooked, or broken, or cracked, or so rusted they might all far apart. But they were Gina’s, and somehow that made them perfect. Raven wanted to take the time to get to know them all.

Maybe later. For now, they were both exhausted, and Gina’s bed was bigger than Raven’s, and nicer, with a real pillow instead of some old quilt bunched up to resemble one. Gina shrugged off her trousers groggily, before flopping back onto the mattress, legs bare and pale and amazing. Raven eyed the chipped dark polish on her toes, probably traded for at the market, or found in one of the supply runs, to the curve of her ankles, to the smooth skin of her calves and upper thighs, all the way to the plain Ark-issued underwear that was worn with a few small holes in the sides, but still managed to make Raven’s mouth water.

But Gina was Bellamy’s girlfriend, and Raven wasn’t going to be that person. She wasn’t going to be Finn. She wasn’t a taker, anymore.

So she just shuffled out of her jeans and curled up beside her, already asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

Raven woke up with Gina’s hair in her mouth, legs tangled together, Gina’s mouth pressed wetly to the skin of her neck, Raven’s hand resting just under her shirt on the skin of Gina’s stomach. Gina sighed in her sleep, nuzzling closer, and Raven closed her eyes, willing the moment to stay. She needed to remember it, exactly as it was.

She thought, _I could get used to this_. Or maybe that was Fucked Up Jiminy Cricket.

Either way, she left before Gina woke. It was for the best.

When Bellamy and Monty came back, it was with Clarke between them, looking for all the world like she’d never left.

Sure, she had an extra hundred demons in her eyes, and her hair looked like it hadn’t seen water in the whole three months she’d been gone, and there were new pale white scars and fresh pink scratches that hadn’t been there before, but.

All in all, in every way that mattered, she was still Clarke Griffin, and she still belonged with them. Even if she was jittery around most of the Arkers, and stared at the Mt. Weather trophies like a wide-eyed frightened child, whenever she stood next to Bellamy, it was clear that was where she fit. It was clear that was where she was going to stay.

Bellamy broke up with Gina on his first night back, and Raven _knew_ it was for the best, _knew_ it was probably amicable, and that Gina most likely wasn’t nursing a broken heart, and that Bellamy was head over fucking heels in love with Clarke Griffin—but she couldn’t stop the blood from boiling inside her skin because _how the fuck could he break up with her?_

So she stormed into his room to ask him just that.

He glanced up from the small rickety chair crammed into the space between the wall and the bed, where Clarke was curled up under a pile of blankets, snoring a little so with each puff of breath, a chunk of blonde curl moved. There was a book in his lap, and he was wearing those ridiculous glasses that Monty had found and _insisted_ he use, because he was squinting so damned much at all the fine print. He frowned over at her.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Raven seethed. “Why the _fuck_ did you break up with Gina?”

Bellamy stared at her for a moment, like he honestly couldn’t understand why she was in his doorway, asking that question, eyes red-rimmed with rage. Finally, he shrugged. “We both agreed it was for the best. Neither of us really thought it was going anywhere, and,” his eyes betrayed him, flicking over to Clarke, just for a second, but it was enough. He shrugged again, turning back to his book. “We both knew we’d never be really happy with each other.”

Raven really wanted to punch him in the neck, or maybe even in his pretty face, but it was hard to argue with a calm and rational Bellamy Blake. The kind of Bellamy Blake who had courtesy break-ups because he was in love with someone else. So instead she just flicked him in the forehead, so he’d know she still cared.

“You didn’t deserve her anyway,” she decided, and marched out down the hall to find something she could hit with a very large metal object—preferably steel.

Raven showed up in the sparring room the next day, what some of the kids had taken to call the Jim, and walked right up in between Clarke and Rina as they started to show down.

“What the fuck, Raven,” Bellamy thundered, but Raven ignored him, instead circling her hand around one of Clarke’s sweaty wrists.

“I’m stealing your girlfriend,” she declared, narrowing her eyes, daring him to stop her. He didn’t, but she could see the nervous muscle in his jaw tick, like it only does when he’s pissed.

But Clarke was the one who made a face and walked over to him, putting a hand on his side. “It’s fine, Bell,” she said, clearly exasperated, probably having had this conversation before. Bellamy dipped his head down to press a sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth, and she grinned a little, before turning away.

Raven wasn’t sure when they’d finally fucking _started_ , but it was a strange sort of relief. Two less people to worry about; she’d let them worry about each other, instead.

Clarke grinned over at her. “Lead the way.”

Raven took hold of her wrist again, just in case, and it proved to be good instinct, because they literally ran into Octavia just two hallways later.

The reaction was immediate; Octavia turned into a wildcat protecting its territory, shoulders hunched, eyes slit dangerously, teeth bared. Clarke schooled herself to reveal nothing, which only served to make Octavia even madder.

“Enough,” Raven barked, snapping the girls out of their stare down. “You both live here now. O, you’re Bellamy’s sister. Clarke, you’re Bellamy’s future wife,” They both went to argue, but Raven shushed them with a hand. “You’re going to have to get used to each other again. So figure out how.”

She was tired of having to choose between her friends, scheduling her time with each against her time with the other.

Octavia looked like she’d rather be gargling gravel, but she does manage to grind out “What did you have in mind?”

Raven grinned. “Well, little Blake I’m glad you asked! I was thinking, every girl’s best friend,” as she spoke, she led them around the corner, into the nearly –emptied bar. “Alcohol.”

Gina grinned as they took their seats. “What’ll it be, ladies?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Raven hummed. “What’s on the menu?”

“Well,” Gina leaned back so she could read the jars of liquid lined up beneath the bar. “There’s moonshine that tastes like berries and gasoline, moonshine that tastes like battery acid, moonshine that tastes like apples and vinegar, and moonshine that tastes like piss.”

“Monty has really outdone himself,” Clarke said, actually sounding impressed. “I’ll try the berries one.”

Octavia snorted. “Of course you’d pick that one,” she muttered, and Raven heaved a sigh too big for her body.

Clarke stared at Octavia, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounded like. You can’t hold your liquor, and you always pick the princess drinks.”

“I bet I can hold my liquor better than you _and_ Raven,” Clarke wagered, outraged, and they sealed the deal, reaching their arms over Raven to shake on it.

“Hey,” Raven frowned, “You totally added me in that, so now I have to compete too.”

Gina set down three glasses filled with equally dangerous amount s of moonshine. “Am I the referee in this situation?”

“Yes!” Clarke nodded enthusiastically, chugging her first drink like a pro.

“Whoa, slow down Clint Eastwood,” Raven teased, but Clarke waved a hand in her face, so close she actually smacked her.

Octavia slammed her emptied cup on the table, looking ready for war. “Round two!” she cried, pumping a fist in the air, and Clarke followed suit. Raven met Gina’s grin and sighed a little, pushing her beaker forward to be refilled, because she might as well, right?

Raven wasn’t sure how it happened—one moment, she was the most sober of the three of them, and the next, she had her head on someone’s shoulder as she played with their hair. It was Clarke’s shoulder, and Clarke’s hair—she’d _missed_ Clarke’s hair, which seemed like a weird thing to miss about a person, but she had. Every time she’d seen a flash of yellow, she’d found herself searching, and she knew it was only worse for Abby, and Bellamy. She was speaking lowly with Octavia. It was hard for Raven to concentrate on the words, but they didn’t sound like death threats, so she counted them as progress.

“You should probably get her home,” Gina said, coming up to lean against them. The sound of her voice had Raven shifting, impatient to see her. When she could, she gasped. Gina grinned, amused, but the grin shuttered a little when Raven reached out to slide a finger across her bottom lip.

“You’re beautiful,” Raven said, slurred really, and she frowned when Gina said no. “You are,” she insisted. “I respect you.”

Gina smiled, lip pushing back against Raven’s finger. “I respect you too,” she agreed, and Raven beamed.

“Yeah, we should definitely put her to bed,” Octavia decided, beginning to stand while still holding onto Raven, who was beginning to suspect she was sabotaged.

She had an arm slung around each of her friend’s shoulders as they dragged her down the hallway. She ducked her head into Octavia’s shoulder miserably. “She’s just so fucking _pretty_ ,” she whined. “And she’s _nice_.”

“What’s wrong with nice?”

Raven snorted, but not because it was funny. Octavia and Clarke dropped her face first on her mattress. “Because I’m _not_ nice,” she explained. “I’m not nice enough or generous enough or—”

“Raven,” Clarke said, sounding stern. “Do you know why Bellamy and I are together now? Because he finally decided to stop thinking he wasn’t good enough for me, and to let me make that decision for myself.”

Raven lay face down in her mattress for a long moment, almost willing herself to soak through the cotton and the springs, erasing any proof that she had been there.

“Just,” Clarke pressed a kiss to the back of her head and then stood, probably to wobble on over to Bellamy’s. “Think about it, okay?”

She left, and then it was just Octavia. But Octavia was never the best with romantic advice, and essentially just said “Try taking your shirt off around her. It worked for me,” and then walked out.

In the morning, Raven felt like death and looked only slightly worse, with swollen eyes and a tongue made of sandpaper.

Gina was the one to find her, today. She perched up on _Calypso’s_ hood, beside Raven’s opened toolbox, kicking her legs out in a strange rhythm against the metal side. Raven didn’t bother saying hello, or acknowledging her at all, besides a simple “Toss me the socket wrench. No, the _socket wrench_. It looks like a long skinny person with a big nose.”

They went on like that for a while, with Raven tweaking the Jeep even though it was in perfect condition already, and Gina handing her all the wrong tools as she hummed a folk song Raven vaguely remembers from the Ark. It wasn’t common on her station, and it was sung in a different language. Something old and sharp and European.

Finally, there wasn’t much else she could pretend to do, so Raven slid out and stood, snatching up a rag to get the worst of the oil off. When she looked up, Gina grinned.

“You missed a spot.” She reached a hand out, grazing two fingers against the soft underside of Raven’s jaw, just light enough to make her shiver.

Gina noticed. She started to readjust, towards her, and Raven stepped forward instinctively, tilting her chin up. “Did you get it?”

She sighed a little jaggedly, breath warm on Raven’s jaw, and wrapped a leg around her hips. “Not quite.”

Gina kissed long and wet and deep, like it was the main attraction. Like she’d been waiting to do this for almost as long as Raven—and maybe she had.

Raven pulled back to breathe, but Gina just pulled her in closer, leaving wet little suction marks down her neck, grinding shamelessly up against her thigh until Raven gave in and slid a hand down between her thighs.

“What do you want?” she asked, breath shaky and embarrassingly needy, but she didn’t even care. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Everything,” Gina moaned as Raven slid the heel of her hand along her cunt. “ _Everywhere, oh god—”_ Raven swallowed her moan with a cocky grin, because—she had her hands down Gina’s pants, and Gina _wanted her_.

And, from what she could tell, she wanted her a lot more than once.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know?” Raven grumbled, fighting with the zipper of Gina’s trousers, finally just getting frustrated and ripping the metal tongues apart. She licked at Gina’s mouth when she began to protest. “I’ll fix them later.”

Gina nodded, impatient, and lost her shirt, tossing it across the garage to be lost forever, and Raven blinked a little stupidly. “You aren’t wearing a bra.”

Gina smirked. “I’m aware.”

Raven swore, ducking down to run her mouth first over one breast, and then the other, until Gina had both hands wrapped in her hair so that it stung. “For me?”

Gina scoffed, tugging Raven up so she could kiss her again. “ _Obviously_ ,” she muttered. And then, when they pulled away, softer, “Everything’s for you, Raven.”

Raven watched her eyes for just a moment, because—it was impossible to feel this full, right? Something was going to happen, there _had_ to be some catastrophe waiting around the corner, because the earth did not just doll out happy endings left and right. They’d all learned that lesson the hard way.

But then Gina started sucking on her neck again, hands roaming up under her shirt, exploring, and then she said “ _God_ , I want to get my mouth on every inch of you,” and Raven’s brain completely stalled.

“You can,” she said, swearing, as Gina shoved her back so she could slide off the car. They both look ridiculous—half-naked, with Raven still covered in engine grease, and now Gina was a little bit too because it rubbed off.

But they were both grinning too stupidly to care, because—this was _happening_ , and it was the hottest moment of Raven’s entire life.

Gina grinned a little wickedly, darker than anything Raven had ever seen from her, and folded down to her knees. She unbuttoned Raven’s pants with her fucking _teeth_ , and once they were pulled down, she pressed her face between her thighs and sighed, making Raven’s heartbeat stutter.

Gina pulled back so she could see her face, impossibly earnest given she just had her face on her cunt. “Where do _you_ want me?” she asked, and Raven almost said _Anywhere_ , or _I don’t care_ , or _You choose, seriously_ —but then she got a better idea.

“On my mouth,” she decided, and laid down while Gina tried to collect herself. She was so wired it took her two tries to take off her underwear, until Raven finally helped her do it, and threw them off with the shirt, for some poor kid to find one day while he’s looking for bolt cutters.

Gina peppered her stomach with kisses as she moves up, giving her a long, messy kiss before finally settling right above her. Raven knew Gina was going slow for her, because she’d never done this before, but to be honest she wasn’t even nervous. She just wanted to try, wanted to see how loud she could make Gina whimper—so she started by licking a hot stripe, while Gina swore softly above her.

She tried different speeds, and directions, figuring out which combinations work best, before stroking her in earnest. Gina took to just grinding up against her face, which made it a little hard to breathe, but it was still the single hottest experience Raven ever had.

Gina came with Raven’s tongue inside her, and a strangled cry that might have been her name. She rolled off with a whine, before moving in immediately to chase the taste of herself in Raven’s mouth, before sliding back down, nestling between her thighs, like she planned to make a home there.

Raven didn’t realize she’d said that last part out loud until Gina grinned and gave one teasing lick against her. “I just might.”

Raven wasn’t sure how long they laid on the floor of the garage, in one naked, sticky tangle, but it was probably longer than they should have. They were definitely testing their luck that Abby or Jackson or, god forbid, _Kane_ should walk in on them.

They were at least half dressed when Bellamy wandered in, calling for Raven. He was loud, so they heard him coming, but there wasn’t even close to enough time for them to hide, and anyway it was just _Bellamy_ ; it wasn’t like it’s anything he’d never seen before.

Just, not at the same time.

He froze in the doorway once he saw them, and they’ve frozen too. Gina was the one who broke it, curling an arm around Raven’s waist until she relaxed against her, and a grin that was altogether too smug, made its way across his face.

“Ah,” he said, clearly doing his best not to laugh. Raven scowled, and reached for the nearest tool she could throw at his head.

He dodged it expertly, still laughing as he walked out, calling back “She’s too good for you!”

“Shut up!” Raven shouted after him, and Gina muffled her laughter against the slope of her neck.

“You still have grease on you,” she observed, and Raven grinned, swiping a finger across the bridge of her nose so that it came away smudged with black. She showed her.

“Looks like I rubbed off on you,” she teased, leering a little overdramatically until Gina shoved her away.

“The showers are probably free,” she mused, tugging on the rest of her clothes, and Raven glanced over, already going warm.

Arkadia had running water for some weeks now, and in Raven’s opinion, it was the best addition they made. It meant she could wash her hair without making it smell like lake for the next two weeks, and as a bonus, there wasn’t any more seaweed getting caught in weird places.

The water wasn’t warm, but that was fine. They could heat up in different ways.

“Hey,” Raven said as they were nearing the stalls. Gina hadn’t let go of her hand once. “Why now?”

Gina grinned up at her, looking ridiculously shy after everything they’d just done in the _car garage_. “I got tired of waiting around for you to make a move. At first, I thought you didn’t like me, and you were hung up on Bellamy, but,” she ducked her head, flushing, and Raven couldn’t help snorting a little.

“Yeah, not even a little bit. I was way too busy being hung up on you.”

“I sort of figured that out,” Gina admitted. “When you got drunk, and said you _respect_ me.” Raven groaned; her memories from the night before were still a little foggy. Gina squeezed her hand.

“It was cute,” she assured her. “Anyway, after that, I figured I should just go for it,” she shrugged. “Go after what I want.”

Raven waited until they were under the water to kiss her breathless, so she was lightheaded and floating, feet off the floor. “I’m glad you did,” she said, and Gina kissed her, threading their fingers together so their palms met.

“Me too. Now turn around, I’ll scrub your back.”

Raven closed her eyes and did as she was told, letting Gina run Monty’s crudely made soap down her skin.

 _This feels nice_ , she thought. _Being wanted._

Gina finished rinsing her back and then wrapped her arms around her middle, pressing her mouth to her shoulder blade. “When you walked into my bar, I thought _that one_ ,” she said, and Raven turned so she could see her.

“ _That one_ what?”

Gina grinned, eyes going squinty under the running water. “ _That’s the one for me_.”

Raven kissed her; Gina moaned. There was a shout from across the room, echoing around the metal, and then Octavia’s voice, “Get a room!”

Gina laughed, going pink, and Raven yelled “Fuck off, O!” and shook her head at the answering cackle.

She leaned her head against Gina’s slippery shoulder. “Welcome to my life,” she warned.

“I like your life.”

“Good,” Raven grinned. “Because I’m hoping you’ll stay.”

They fall asleep in Gina’s bed, because they both agree hers is better, and the last thing Raven thinks as she listens to Gina breathing is _I could get used to this_.

She does.


End file.
